


Banana split party

by Xhantia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU where everything is fine, Because I do what I want with my fics, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Precious Peter Parker, Tony and Stephen are made for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xhantia/pseuds/Xhantia
Summary: Stephen Strange is a calm man. As a neurosurgeon, he’s the definition of self-control. He stays still, no matter what happens.Thus, when Stark saves him from a hard time, hurting his ego in the process, he stays calm.When Stark reminds him this during the whole week, he stays calm.When Stark makes him understand, not without some joy, that he owes him one, he stays calm.When Stark calls him on a Sunday afternoon and asks him to come quickly at the Tower, he stays calm.When Stark, with ringed eyes and one glass in the hand, observes him appear from one of his dimensional portal and comes out with a “Can’t you knock? Or at least ring, like everyone else?”, he stays calm.But when he spots Peter on the big kitchen table, surrounded by mountains of paper, biology notes and science books, his mask of control cracks.« You called me to babysit a teenager?"





	Banana split party

Stephen Strange is a calm man. As a neurosurgeon, he’s the definition of self-control. He stays still, no matter what happens.

Thus, when Stark saves him from a hard time, hurting his ego in the process, he stays calm.

When Stark reminds him this during the whole week, he stays calm.

When Stark makes him understand, not without some joy, that he owes him one, he stays calm.

When Stark calls him on a Sunday afternoon and asks him to come quickly at the Tower, he stays calm.

When Stark, with ringed eyes and one glass in the hand, observes him appear from one of his dimensional portal and comes out with a “Can’t you knock? Or at least ring, like everyone else?”, he stays calm.

But when he spots Peter on the big kitchen table, surrounded by mountains of paper, biology notes and science books, his mask of control cracks.

« You called me to babysit a teenager?

The harshness of his voice isn’t destined to Peter, who curls up on his homework, hoping he could disappear into it. Tony, unimpressed by his tone, sticks out his chest in an attempt to appear taller and looks at the Sorcerer straight into his eyes.

— You owe me, Strange. Oh, and please, be polite towards Peter. He’s a good kid, he concludes while finishing his drink with one gulp.

The jingling of the glass hitting the table only increases Stephen’s annoyance. The sunlight flooding from the large windows almost blinds him.

Or maybe it’s only Tony’s ego.

He can’t tell.

— This has nothing to do with your protege, Stark. You’re mistaking me with your staff, and I don’t like it. At all.

Peter’s voice, a little too high-pitched, echoes from behind Stephen.

— Mister Stark, don’t worry about me, I… I can study alone-

Stark stops him with a gesture of his hand before he can say anything else.

— Peter, adults are talking. Focus on your homework and let me sort out the details with Harry Potter here.

The Sorcerer Supreme frowns. His disdain is almost palpable.

— May I know why you can’t take care of this young man yourself? He groans, folding his arms across his chest.

— Mechanic is my thing, corrects Tony with a false outraged tone. You, you’re the team’s doctor.

— Team? I’m sorry, what team?

— Oh yeah, the team you don’t even know. Because you are an open-minded and extremely sociable man, Tony sighs dramatically. Well, we all have to start somewhere, haven’t we?

— Are you making fun of me?

— No.

— You made me come from Kamar-Taj for this?

Tony raises his eyebrows.

— Yes.

— Oh, really? Don’t you think that I have other things to attend to? Stephen retorts.

His expression is unreadable, but there’s a dangerous spark burning in his blue eyes.

— Oh, really? Like what? Tony asks with a sceptic eye, hands in his pockets.

— Like more important things than your capricious billionaire problems, he hisses. Protect Earth against invasions from other dimensions, for example.

Stephen grits his teeth. With Stark, it’s always a contest about who’s the most stubborn.

The problem is, he always wins.

— Relax Harry Potter, it’s Sunday, Tony answers, his brow furrowed. I’m sure Wong will do a good job without you. And I too. I have some work waiting for me.

Without waiting for any answer, he walks towards the stairs. Stephen try to find his words, fails. The Cloak of Levitation furiously beats his legs.

— Stark, come back here!

— Stephen, you owe me, you have a student in distress to help, ad I’m busy! Have fun, you two! »

And just like this, he’s gone.

For a moment, the former neurosurgeon hesitates to follow Stark, just to tell him what he thinks about owing him anything. But the IA controlling this house will certainly forbid him the access if Tony doesn’t want to be disturbed. He could still create a portal to reach him, or even leave the Tower without a word.

The sound of creasing paper makes him realize he is not alone.

Stephen feels a weight growing inside his stomach.

Peter. He completely forgot him.

Guilt flourishes, noxious, in his chest. The young man certainly didn’t expect such a scene. And giving the way he looks at the Sorcerer, he doesn’t seem inclined to continue his homework.

The Cloak of Levitation ceases to hit its owner’s legs and falls, heavy on his shoulders.

He can’t leave like this and abandon the teenager he is supposed to help.

Stephen isn’t at ease with young people, and he doesn’t know how to handle them. It’s a known fact.

He sighs. His first impression could have been better.

Damn you, Stark.

When Peter opens his mouth, Stephen looks away.

« If- If you want to leave the Tower, you have to take the elevator, he stutters. Or, or, or teleport, of course.

His childish face is pale. He gulps, obviously lacking for words.

— No, no I… I’m sorry for the scene you just witnessed, Peter, Stephen apologizes. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.

The Cloak of Levitation slips from its owner’s shoulders, installing itself on one of the large room sofas. Stephen breathes slowly, deeply. The irritation heating up his blood seconds ago fades.

— I don’t want to force you to help me, Mister Strange…

The sorcerer shuts the young man with a dissuasive look. He comes to sit next to Peter, scrutinizing all the biology books and lessons scattered across the table.

For a second, he sees himself as Peter. He was younger, maybe a couple years older than him, taking his master’s degree and his PhD simultaneously. He remembers the courses, the books full of notes, the sleepless nights.

He’ll never be thankful enough for his eidetic memory. He knows he’s a unique case.

Stephen rubs his eyes, determined to forget Stark for the moment. He grabs one of Peter’s pens, stretching a trembling and sewed hand to him.

— We are going to start over if you don’t mind. My name is Stephen Strange. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peter.

— Peter Parker, the student shily answers while shaking hands. Nice to meet you too, Mister Strange.

— Call me Stephen. Well, what do you want to begin with? » 

 

« Occipital lobe, occiput. Awesome! Do you have other tricks like this, mister- Stephen?

— Of course. Those saved my life more than once.

Peter is a brilliant young man. His mind is sharp, curious, and he always wants to learn more. He recognizes Stark’s student: clever, insatiable.

Like his mentor.

While Peter is stretching, stiff from staying several hours in the same position, Stephen looks at the futuristic clock hanging on the kitchen wall. Time confirms what the rosy light of dusk was suggesting: they studied all afternoon.

The Sorcerer Supreme scratches his beard, lost in his thoughts. Stark is unstable, untenable and unmanageable. But the reaction Stephen had against him -and Peter- earlier was excessive. Stark could have him done worst things to pay his so-called debt.

And the sorcerer actually enjoyed helping the young man.

He immerses himself in his memories and tries to find a moment, an instant where he could have felt the same kind of satisfaction.

He fails.

He’s not surprised anyway.

— Thank you so much Mister St- I mean, Stephen. Really, thank you.

Peter’s eyes are sparkling. The late afternoon sun illuminates his messy hair with warm shades of orange. With his faded sweatshirt and shaky self-confidence, he reminds Stephen his student years.

— You’re doing a great job, the sorcerer compliments him. Personally, I don’t worry for your exams. And so you shouldn’t.

After a time of comfortable silence, Stephen speaks to Peter with a more serious expression.

— I want to properly apologize for my behavior earlier.

Peter didn’t expect that. He moves uncomfortably on his chair, cheeks red.

— Oh no, I understand, you probably have a ton of other things to do than help me study biology, or do my homework, or you understand, you protect the world from interdimensional threats and I don’t know much about it, but even mister Stark has many, many things to do even if it’s Sunday it’s not a job where you can have a day off…

Stephen open his mouth, trying to appease the young man, but when Peter finishes his messy speech, he doesn’t find anything to say.

— …I know mister Stark isn’t always cool or nice with people, he likes to upset them sometimes, I mean, he’s already hard with me but he really is… A good mentor. And a great man. He’s just... Well, he’s Tony Stark I suppose. But he’s kind, attentive and he has many other qualities!

A short silence.

The young man rubs his neck, a clumsy smile on his face.

— It’s just that… He doesn’t let people see these sides of him.

The Sorcerer Supreme stays still, his mouth partly open. When he realizes Peter is waiting for a reaction, he extends a hand towards him and messes his hair up.

— Tony has chosen himself a wonderful apprentice.

— Thanks Mis- Stephen, but my hair, you ah! Stop, please!

When Stephen’s stomach starts to gurgle, he freezes. He looks at Peter, who clearly heard it, and the heat rises to his cheeks.

— You are hungry? Asks the little spider, who didn’t notice his embarrassment. Mister Stark often orders ice creams at the Haagen-Dazs near Central Park. They know him, so they always deliver quickly.

— Funny. Why do I have the feeling that you are the one ordering ice cream here, Peter? Stephen says, the ghost of a mischievous smile on his face.

The young man tries to appear confident and serious by ordering the notes he’s taken during the past hours.

— It’s just that… Hum… I-I’m quickly getting taller these times, I’m always hungry and I eat a lot… He stutters, practically dropping the books he has in his hands.

— Well, that’s good news, because I must say I’m starving. We’re going to be two to eat our fill. What would you like?

Peter jumps on his seat, a huge smile on his face.

— A gigantic banana split! »

 

Tony isn’t a friend of schedules. Even more when he works on his latest creations. Nothing exists anymore.

More precisely, time and people completely disappear from his mind. The only things remaining are thinking, mechanics. And his genius.

But this evening, Peter is upstairs with Harry Potter and all his magic tricks. So he asked FRIDAY to keep him in touch with time.

« Boss, it’s half past five.

Tony raises his head from his armor piece, puts his soldering iron down. With a gesture of his hand, he stops the music playing in the background.

— How long since I left them?

— Approximatively four hours, boss.

Stark nods and stands up from his chair. His aching back reminds him that he’s no longer twenty, and that working with a back on his sit would be a much better idea.

He chooses to ignore the pain.

— Let’s go see if Strange hasn’t eaten my apprentice. Or thrown him in another dimension especially for his revisions. »

The calm that fills the apartment is only disturbed by the muffled voices of Strange ad Peter. Tony, expecting to see the little spider studying under the authority of an intransigent teacher, raises his brow when he finds them around an enormous, half-eaten banana split. Peter, at ease, fills his mouth with an entire spoon of ice cream. When he notices his mentor, a smile lights up his face.

« Mister Stark !

Stephen turns his head and offers him a polite nod.

— So Peter, ready to show us your biology skills? Asks the billionaire, internally satisfied to see his protege in a good mood.

— More than ready! And it’s all thanks to Miste- Stephen!

Tony skirts the kitchen table and heads towards the sink, cleaning the dirt under his nails and the oil that stains his forearms.

— And to celebrate your talent, you threw a banana split party. Without inviting me.

— I didn’t think the missing man of the mansion would complain about not being invited, remarks Stephen, plunging his spoon in the dessert with a shaky hand.

— Oh, don’t worry about me Strange, I’ll get over it, Tony retorts with a bold air. Proof is, I’m inviting myself to a party that takes place in my house.

Stephen can’t help himself but reply.

— Are all billionaires so daring?

— Only genius playboy philanthropists, he corrects the Sorcerer Supreme. People like me, in fact.

Under the eye of a joyful and amused Peter, Tony dries his hands, takes a spoon and seats in front of the two men. The piece of ice cream he takes is so big that it comes close to fall on the table.

— How’s your next armor going, Mister Stark? Peter asks. The spoon in his mouth slightly deforms his words.

— Good. Really good, actually. FRIDAY is uploading new defense protocols and… You know… Other things I’d like to include in your suit, he answers with an evasive hand movement.

Peter spits his spoon out and leans on the table, overexcited. Stephen moves the ice cream aside to avoid any unfortunate accident.

— Seirously? What is it? New webs? Hooks to climb on walls? Oh man, I could really use these, it’s not a piece of cake when the wind blows…

— Calm down kid, Tony lectures him, you sit down and breathe. You won’t know anything until I’ve finished working on it. Who knows, maybe I could try new features…

The Sorcerer Supreme and the young man share a look, curiosity much more present in one than the other. The billionaire points Stephen.

— … Like, for example, integrate some magic in my armors.

Stephen’s answer is as brutal as his face stays perfectly neutral.

— Dimensional magic isn’t adapted to physical objects. And if I may, I refuse to use my abilities to that purpose.

— Mh. I was expecting this, Tony pouts. And if I make you a shiny, pretty armor in your Harry Potter style instead of… (he makes gestures toward Stephen’s uniform) … Of your priest with gothic boots costume?

Stephen furrows his brow. He doesn’t know if he should be vexed or disrupted by Tony’s description of his uniform.

— This is my work uniform as the Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts. I refuse.

— Really? Too bad, I could’ve seen you with it. I would have painted It in blue, with your necklace encrusted in it’s chest. We would’ve called you… I don’t know… Doctor IronStrange? I’m sure we’re missing something.

Peter can’t help himself but laugh. The sorcerer almost suffocates with his ice cream. He observes the little spider, red as a tomato, trying to contain his laughter. Tony, a genuine expression on his face, seems satisfied with his joke.

Stephen coughs. A smile tugs the corner of his lips.

Until a scream from Peter makes his blood freeze in his veins.

The teenager, now so pale he almost seems white, stares at the kitchen clock with wide eyes. He rises quickly from his seat, puts all his belongings in his bag without caring about books or sheets of paper and throws it on his back.

— Shit shit shit! I’m so late, aunt May’s gonna kill me!

Tony sighs and closes his eyes for a long second.

— Ask Happy to drive you home. I’ll call you aunt and tell her it’s my fault if you’re late.

— Oh, thank you Mister Stark, thank you thank you! Peter yelps, already rushing towards the elevator. Thank you Mister Stark, Mister Strange, it was so great! I’m sorry!”

The silence that comes after his departure is deafening.

— He has to be more careful about his language, Tony mumbles.

— I insisted that he called me Stephen, says the Sorcerer Supreme.

The two men share a look, blue iris scrutinizing two obsidian stones. Like the sea was sinking into a mesmerizing black hole.

Tony breaks the spell first.

— Peter likes you.

— I must admit that I appreciated helping him. You protege is full of potential.

Stark smiles. He seizes the now empty ice cream bowl to wash it.

— Of course he is. He just needs to take a step back from things sometimes…

— ...And more experience, Stephen completes.

Silence.

Stephen rises from his seat, the scraping of the chair the only sound in the room. He observes his shaky hands, glances at Tony’s back.

— It’s time for me to go back to Kamar-Taj. I have some work waiting for me.

With a precise and ancestral hand movement, Strange opens the same dimensional portal he used several hours ago.

Tony, turning over him, says:

— If you liked to pay your debt, you can always come back. I’m sure Peter will be more than pleased to see you.

Stephen knows the look Stark is giving him. A look illuminated by his reactor and the setting sun.He knows the sorcerer wants to help the little spider again.

Tony loves to be right.

But Stephen’s not going to give him what he wants.

— Have a good evening, Tony. »

The billionaire could have sworn he had seen the ghost of a smile on Stephen’s lips before he was swallowed by the portal.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody!
> 
> My first fic, IronStrange fic. Coincidence? I don't think so.  
> I hope you enjoyed this little OS :) english is not my native language, so I'm pretty sure I've made some mistakes I didn't find even with a second or a third reading. Let me know if you find some!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! <3 
> 
> With love and a french baguette,  
> Xhantia


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